There are certain songs that are created at such a time that they become engraved in a nation’s history and in people’s minds. One such song that is part of Egypt’s history is Ya El Medan by Cairokee, an Egyptian rock band, featuring Aida El-Ayoubi. The name of the song means “Oh, Square.” It was released during the events of the 25 January Revolution, which is also called the 2011 Revolution.
This revolution was a moment that changed Egypt’s history, as the nation roared its opposition against a corrupt government that had been ruling for 30 years. The rule of Hosni Mubarak, the Egyptian president at the time, was one tainted by blood and corruption. His government stifled the voices of people and took away their rights to a decent life. That’s when Cairokee and Aida El-Ayoubi didn’t let their voices remain silent. Just like the wave of people in Tahrir Square in Cairo, which included Muslims and Christians, young and old, and men and women, these musicians took their firm place in the resistance.
Tahrir Square remains as a symbol of the Revolution, and so does the music. Ya El Medan is a song for those who lived through the revolution, and for those who lost their lives demanding social justice, freedom, and bread. The soft tone of the voices of Amir Eid, Cairokee’s lead singer, along with that of Aida El-Ayoubi, created a song that deserves to be remembered, just as the 25 January Revolution should never be forgotten.
No translation can do the song justice – only Egyptian dialect can truly reflect the meaning behind the song – but an attempt is mandatory. Ya El Medan isn’t just a song for the Egyptian people, but for all people around the world. It is a song that shows how a nation became united in hope of a better life, not only for themselves, but also for their children.
Oh, Square, where have you been all this time?
With you, we sang, we struggled, we fought our fears, and we prayed.
One hand, day and night—nothing with you is impossible.
The voice of freedom unites us; at last, our lives have meaning.
No turning back, our voices are heard, and dreams are no longer forbidden.
Oh, Square, where have you been all this time?
You tore down the walls, lit up the light, and gathered broken people around you.
We were born again, and a stubborn dream was reborn.
We differ, but our intentions are pure—sometimes, the picture wasn’t clear.
We will protect our country and our children’s children—the rights of those we lost among our youth.
Oh, Square, where have you been all this time?
With you, we felt and we began, after we drifted apart and were lost.
We must change ourselves with our own hands—you gave us so much, and the rest is up to us.
Sometimes, I fear you will become just a memory, that if we drift away, the idea will die.
That we will go back to forgetting the past and only tell your story in tales.
Oh, Square, where have you been all this time?
A square filled with all kinds—the betrayer and the brave.
Some who love, some who take advantage, some who shout, and some who stay silent.
At the university, we sip tea—we learned how to claim our rights.
You made the world listen, and the neighbors gather.
Oh, Square, where have you been all this time?
Our idea is our strength, and our weapon is our unity.
A square that speaks the truth, always saying “No” to the oppressor.
A square like a wave—some riding it, some being pulled along.
Some outside say it’s just chaos, but history will write what truly happened.
Oh, Square, where have you been all this time?
The words of Ya El Medan hold truth in them. Every part of the song carries within it the feelings of millions of Egyptians. “With you, we sang, we struggled, we fought our fears, and we prayed,” the song says – and we did pray. Egyptians prayed even as the police, controlled like dolls by the oppressive government, killed the youth. An example of the unity the song speaks of was portrayed in how Christians surrounded Muslims to protect them while they were praying.
The beauty of Ya El Medan is that it isn’t a political song – it goes beyond that. In an interview with Daily News Egypt, Cairokee were asked if Ya El Medan was a political song. Their answer was no.
“I don’t find the 25 January Revolution has anything to do with politics in the first place; we went down asking for social justice, freedom and bread. These demands are not political.”
You don’t need to have a political preference to be moved by Ya El-Midan. Just like you don’t have to be one of those who protested in Tahrir Square to relate to the words. For Aida El-Ayoubi, the Square in the song doesn’t just represent the one in Tahrir.
“Not just Tahrir Square, but all the squares of liberation across Egypt. The meaning here is symbolic, which is why the phrase “Oh, Square” was used. The music video itself includes other symbols that remain the same, whether the protesters were in Tahrir Square or any other square inside or outside Cairo. These include tear gas canisters, Central Security shields, and the protesters’ clothing marked by rubber bullet wounds and blood. Overall, the song relies on symbolism, both in its lyrics and visuals.”
Indeed, the music video carries a lot of symbols, even ones that are unintended. At the end of the video, footage of Egyptians during the revolution is shown, and as the video nears its end, the footage becomes blurred. The song hopes that the revolution will never be forgotten.
“Sometimes, I fear you will become just a memory, that if we drift away, the idea will die.
That we will go back to forgetting the past and only tell your story in tales.”
Now, Egyptians share these specific lyrics because there is the harsh realisation that many have forgotten about the 25 January Revolution and what it meant. However, the blurring of the protests doesn’t erase their existence. The fact that you can still see the protests, albeit blurry, makes you realise that those who still remember will never let the memory of the revolution fade away.
